Words Are Only Painted Fire
by Miko A. Kimura
Summary: Made from vocab words, this includes short stories, one-shots and two-shots. It includes sadstuck, happystuck, and everything in between. AU and not, see the characters go through challenges both physical, mental, and emotional. Updated weekly. T for character death and Karkat's potty mouth.
1. Just a Dream Part 1

Okay, here's a new group of stories called Words are Only Painted Fire. These will be updated weekly, as I write these stories off of vocabulary words. And I am sorry if characters are not acting right, but I try. =D

Anyway, here's Part 1 of 2 parts for my cousin's birthday!

* * *

She wanted to scream as candy red started to pour from the wounded body, sapping away the life that had once flown in them. She wanted to fall as the body did, just so she could follow it on the way down. All she wanted to do was to collapse on her knees, and pray to a God she didn't believe in, didn't even know of, just to hope this wasn't true. She just wanted it all to stop. Oh, what she would give for the power of time, to rewind it all. Or maybe the power of life, so that the candy red would stop leaking like a broken faucet. Olive colored tears fell freely, mixing with the fallen.

It had always been that those whose blood had colder hues had hegemony over lowbloods.

You see, the blood of trolls are manifold in color, ranging from rust red at the bottom of the chain to a beautiful magenta as the queen; this colorization is their social class, their entire lives. And ruled their entire lives it had. Those who were freaks, who were rebellious, or just didn't belong were killed by the edict of the queen, and no one questioned.

To some, the hemospectrum was everything.

They would do everything in their power to make sure that order was secured. But in truth, all these people were, were blind sheep following their shepherd's command. The were raised to follow the class of their blood, they would serve the class of their blood, and die by the hand of their precious hemospectrum.

Blind sheep following the herd. Soldiers in the Condescension's army.

But there were some in the past who broke this rule. There were sheep who finally realized that the shepherd wasn't always watching, and wasn't the top of the world. Those who had opened their eyes stood behind one who dreamed of equality, and stood for peace on their planet of Alternia. Those sheep stood behind the one with no sign, no chance, and no blood who stood in the charts. He did not belong on the hemospectrum, for his blood was too bright, too _wrong_.

They called him the Signless.

Behind him stood many, and by his side stood the Disciple. They say that their love descended that which was known by the trolls, off and beyond the grid. She listened to every vision he retold, every lesson he preached, and faithfully recorded his scripture. But when the rebellion had failed, when all had been lost, the Signless was to be executed.

He was hung and beaten to death. The Signless had become the Sufferer.

The Disciple had wept and cried, the pain of separation strong. But she wasn't killed as she was supposed to be, as one of the blind sheep had slightly opened eyes and took pity on her. Instead he had allowed her to escape. But she kept his message alive.

Yet this red blood that remained was not one of the Signless nor the Sufferer. And the olive tears that fell did not come from the forever loyal Disciple. No, this was more modern. It was fresh blood, not blood that was stained onto the pages of mysterious legend and majestic myth. This was blood that was descended down the line. It was the one she adored who was killed right in front of her eyes, all because of a little game they had played. They were playing a simple game of tag, and that was it. Their game of tag was created through dashing, cavorting, and having a laugh. But somehow this simple game had lead to death, had led to the very end of one of her friends. Of the one she had contained flushed feelings for.

Nepeta was always one to abet others when they needed help, but she couldn't now.

The moons shined just right in the sky as the two trolls ran around, laughing and giggling. Well, in the girl's case it was so. The young boy's case was less family friendly, to say the least. But with each in their own way, we knew that these two were enjoying their time spent together. It was always nice to get out of the hive every few nights, and it was refreshing without the Alternian sun to burn them into crisps.

The girl extended blue claw-like weapons from the machine on her knuckles and started to climb up one of the many trees that surrounded the area. If the blue tail that was attached to her was real, it would be calmly waving back and forth in a calm manner. Her childish and naive smile stretched across her face as she rested, sitting on one of the highest branches.

"Goddammit, Nepeta! What the fuck happened to playing fair?" the boy yelled up to the girl in the tree. She simply giggled as she looked down at the boy from the branch.

"What wrong, Karkitty?" she asked, using the nickname that she had had for him for several sweeps now, ever since they had met.

Karkat grumbled and sat down on the trunk of the tree. "I'll be waiting here for you. Come down whenever the god-damned hell you feel like it, Nepeta." He stopped his rambling for a second, before adding, "Maybe I should think of a nickname that would annoy the hell out of you. See how you like it."

"Aww, but Karkitty," she pouted, leaping to a lower branch. She sat down on the new branch and looked down at him, with her arms crossed like a young child. But she wasn't offended by his words. Karkat, though he was brusque by nature, was a good friend. "You didn't even try! That's no fun!"

He stood up. "Well maybe if you play fair, I will play." Nepeta carefully made her way down the tree, landing a few feet from the boy. It was only a second when Karkat had made his way over and gently punched her shoulder before turning the other way and dashing. Nepeta jumped as Karkat got her shoulder. Darn it, she had let her guard down! No matter. Her hunting skills will play a nice part in trying to get Karkat back. Quickly she ran towards the boy's exit, blocking Karkat from leaving. "Nice try, Karkitty," she purred.

"For the last damn time, Stop calling me Karkitty. Or I'll call you Nipshit." He said as he crossed his arms. He blew some hair out of his eyes and looked at her

"Don't call me that, _Karkitty_," Nepeta whined, but couldn't contain her laughter. Even when Karkat was trying to be offensive, he just couldn't. And that pout was so childishly cute. Smiling, and her tail would have been waving in anticipation, she pounced on him. They rolled in the grass and past the trees, before gravity and time decided that there was enough rolling."Gotcha!" she said excitedly as she pinned him in a cat-like manner. "You're it!"

"Ugh. Nepeta. Get. Off. Of. Me." Karkat growled, and Nepeta complied. Quickly he stood up, brushing off the dust that happened to dirty his pants.

Nepeta giggled, completely unaware and ignorant of how weird that position might have been or how awkward it actually was. She wouldn't have found anything wrong with it, even though a random stranger wouldn't agree with her if they happened to walk by.

The silence stretched on- not an awkward one, but rather one that was quite comforting. A gentle wind blew through the area, promising that all would be peaceful. Well, if only it remained that way...

Soon they came, and neither knew of how. There were many, all prepared to fight. From what the scene suggested, they were surrounded; Karkat and Nepeta would have to fight their way out no matter which direction they tried to flee. The two called to them, asking why they were there. There was no candor in their words; they refused to get to the truth. The blind sheep had come at the call of their shepherd, and did they only thing that they knew how to do. Soldiers went after the boy, ready to grab him and take him away.

The boy pulled out his sickles, and the girl let her claws unsheathe. As the sheep came, calling names such as freak and mutant and abomination, the rebels stood ready to fight. One by one the soldiers fell with a rainbow of paint, but when one fell, two more took his place. While the grass stained yellows and blues and greens, while the moons glowed on the fallen, it was only a matter of time.

It seemed that time was fixed, and that fate was immutable.

They had ganged up around him, knocking the weapons out of his hands and grabbing him and binding him so that he could not move. A few knocks to the head was all it took to make him fall asleep.

The olive blood would have kept fighting, but soon she was put to sleep, too.

When she came to, her heart dropped into her stomach. She had to help her friend, and so she went. But she only knew when she arrived that they had him in front of the city, put on display for all to see his life-long secret. They shot him with arrows, stabbed him with swords, threw stones and sticks at his weakened body. Everywhere a wound opened, a gush of candy red blood would pour onto the ground.

Karkat. He knew the threat of being killed for his mutation was always latent, always in waiting. But he didn't expect it to awaken so soon...

Olive colored tears fell freely, mixing with the fallen.

Yet this red blood that remained was not one of the Signless nor the Sufferer. And the olive tears that fell did not come from the forever loyal Disciple.

Slowly, her vision abated as the reality she was in grew into nothing more than a nightmare.

* * *

Vocab Words:

hegemony: (noun) dominance over others  
manifold: (adj) diverse, varied  
edict: (noun) an order, decree  
abet: (verb) to help, aid, encourage  
brusque: (adj)short, abrupt, dismissive  
candor: (noun) honesty, frankness  
immutable: (adj) not changeable  
latent: (adj) hidden, but not capable of exposure  
abate: (verb) to reduce, lessen


	2. He Was a Man

**Hey guys. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for being late in the updating. Part two is quite long, so I'm going to try and finish it up over the weekend. For now, have the story for this week's vocabulary.**

* * *

He was the best morail a troll could have.  
He would have done his ancestor proud.  
He was a servant to the end.

He was a man who trained hard, and became strong. He was a man who saw the law, and seemed to be the only one who would lay down his life for it. He was a soldier, and he was the only one who stood guard at the castle, even when the castle came crashing down. He was loyal, standing by those who needed him. He was a guardian, protecting those he loved in every way. And he was his own troll, though nearly no one could fathom this.

His name was Equius Zahhak.

He was a man who was subservient, serving his highbloods with the utmost attention. He was a man who may have had brute strength, but his fingers were nimble as he had build machines with the utmost care. He was a man with a heart, giving support to his morail and creating a body for the ghost of the girl he loved. He was a canny man, with the knowledge and the creativity. Though nearly no one saw this in him.

He was brought up to serve.

Since his wiggler days, his lusus Aurthour had taught him to be loyal. He had taught young Equius to avidly respect his elders and higher ups. And he grew up this way. One could even say he was a partisan, part of a cause. He would fight for his cause, even when others found it ridiculous, or even unnecessary. After all, they were the only ones left. But he continued, because it was who he was.

He would have never smirched his teachings.

And in the end, it was his teachings that let him fall. But he fell with a smile on his face. Because in his world, it was like a theocracy. The laws of the color are like religion, and the world was ruled on that religion. And it was on this tract on the meteor that he fell with that smile on his face.

Oh, that law was such a valuable ally,  
Oh, that law was such a formidable foe...

And if given the chance, he would never try to evade his death.

He would do it the same way over again.

Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes.

He was the best morail a troll could have.  
He would have done his ancestor proud.  
He was a servant to the end.

* * *

Smirched: (verb) discredited or disgraced  
Formidable: (adj) dreadful, fearful, or extremely serious  
Subservient: (adj) follows directions without question  
Partisans: (noun) members of a party, faction, or cause  
Canny: (adj) clever, shrewd, crafty  
Fathom: (noun/verb) understand  
Avidly: (adj) eagerly, showing great enthusiasm  
Evade: (verb) to avoid  
Tract: (noun) a defined area of land  
Theocracy: (noun) government ruled by religion


End file.
